


Some Call it a Death Wish

by shattered_glass



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentioned Henry Laurens, Mentions of Hamilton/Eliza, Mentions of Hamilton/Maria, Tragedy, Unrequited Love, Why can't these two just work it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shattered_glass/pseuds/shattered_glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two months since John Laurens walked into the path of a bullet shot from a British officer's gun.</p>
<p>No one really knows who Alexander Hamilton belonged to. No one really knows their story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Call it a Death Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Not going to lie; a bit tipsy when I wrote this thing in about 30 minutes. So if there are mistakes concerning grammar or historical accuracy (obviously I am not 1000% certain that Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens were a thing, but come on, who are we kidding) do not take them seriously. 
> 
> Short piece that explores the Hamilton/Laurens relationship and how Hamilton felt after receiving notice that John died.

It’s been two months since John Laurens walked into the path of a bullet shot from a British officer’s gun.

It’s been one month and one week since Alexander Hamilton got notice of this.

It’s been one month and one week since Alexander screamed so loudly and so violently, deep in the night, that Eliza woke thinking that Alexander was dying, that war surrounded them once more, that a bullet had finally gotten her husband.

It’s been one week since Eliza accepted this new version of her husband; this version that didn’t talk so much. This version without a sparkle in his eye. A hollow version, an empty one.

No one ever realized that so many of Alexander’s words were solely for John Laurens; and these words died along Laurens’ side.

 - - -

_“You talk too much.”_

_“I’m not talking, I’m writing.”_

_“Whatever you’re doing, you are doing too much of it.”_

_“We leave tomorrow, John. I need to get this done.”_

_“Your mouth is nonstop. And your hands will cramp up with all that writing; you won’t be able to even hold a rifle.”_

_“Can you think of a better use for my mouth? For my hands, perhaps?”_

_“Alexander—”_

_“And suddenly you’re nervous?”_

_“We can’t keep doing this.”_

_“You always say that. I wish you would allow yourself this moment of happiness.”_

_“I’m—”_

_“You’re warm. Always so warm.”_

_“Alex, please.”_

_“Anything, John. You just need to ask.”_

_\- - -_

Washington could not help how the corners of his mouth turned up at the sight of Laurens and Hamilton together in the field of battle. John Laurens, so young and passionate, yet so afraid, lit up around Alexander Hamilton. And Hamilton—ever brave, ever the flirt—was so enamored with this ray of light he created of Laurens.

Laurens got himself injured more than once. He’d taken two bullets in his service, and both hits, Hamilton was at his side immediately, hands bloodied quickly as he touched his friend, voice hoarse from calling for help. At one particularly nasty hit, Laurens’ eyes filled with certainty that this was the end, and his hands flew to Hamilton’s face as the latter bent over his injured companion. The medic arrived shortly, and as Hamilton tried to pull away, Laurens’ face crumpled, shaking hands slipping from Hamilton’s face.

As Laurens was hoisted away to a tent, Washington turned to look at Hamilton, kneeling on the grass, hands bloody, eyes full.

Washington prayed that the death of John Laurens would never come; he did not want to see what remained of Alexander Hamilton after that day.

 - - -

_“Does it hurt?”_

_“Not terribly.”_

_“I thought—”_

_“I know.”_

_“My God, John.”_

_“Shhh, they’ll hear you.”_

_“Let them. Let them know I’m yours.”_

_“Alexander Hamilton? Mine? We all know that that man belongs to nobody.”_

_“Just to one man who continues to tempt death.”_

_“Even in death, Alex, I’m yours.”_

_“I’d much rather have you alive.”_

_“All right, then.”_

_“All right.”_

_\- - -_

Maria Reynolds fell in love with Alexander slowly. It began as an escape—a beautiful escape with a beautiful man, one she never dreamed she could have. But here he was, and for those passionate, hot summer nights, he was hers.

She knew that he was not hers to love. She knew of Eliza Hamilton, although Maria did not know the woman personally. She knew that Eliza would always be Alexander’s, no matter what happened. What she did not know—what she realized late into their torrid affair—was that Alexander, perhaps, was not even Eliza’s to love. No, Alexander belonged to no woman.

One night, Maria woke up and turned over, the room still engulfed in blackness except for one small candle by Alexander’s side of the bed. And there he sat, young face illuminated in the warm glow, a worn paper in his hands. His entire body shook. Maria sat up without thinking, curiosity always getting the better of her, and Alexander immediately cast the letter aside. When she tried to ask him what was happening, he silenced her with a particularly rough kiss, and pushed her back down to the bed. He straddled her and wasted no time tearing off her nightgown. His usual tenderness was gone.

Maria pretended not to hear it when a name slipped out of Alexander’s mouth that wasn’t hers.

 - - -

_“Fuck, Alexander.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“I—fuck, fuck, Alex, yeah.”_

_“You okay?”_

_“I’m fine. Just—don’t stop.”_

_“No.”_

_“Are you—”_

_“I’m finished. Your turn now, dearest.”_

_“Christ.”_

_“You’re alive.”_

_“It was just—oh, God—it was just a fever, Alex.”_

_“I know. But it lasted too long. We all thought…”_

_“I—I don’t plan on dying just yet—oh, yes, right there.”_

_“That’s what I like to hear.”_

_“Alexander! Please!”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you, too.”_

_“That’s what I like to hear.”_

_\- - -_

Eliza swore that she saw a hint of sadness in Alexander’s eyes at their wedding.

His eyes were full, brimming with tears, as he smiled and took Eliza’s hand, promising to be hers and only hers forever.

But there was also a far-away look there, when he thought she wasn’t looking, as though he were searching the crowd for someone he knew was not there.

Someone who would never be there.

 - - -

_“John, you know that this will change nothing.”_

_“This will change everything.”_

_“I told you—I swore to you—I love you with everything I have, I will never stop loving you like that—”_

_“You love her.”_

_“What do you expect me to do?”_

_“We could have been happy.”_

_“We couldn’t ever be together like that. You know that, John, you’re a smart man. And your father—what would your father think? He’d come for you, John, don’t think that he wouldn’t.”_

_“I know my father, Alexander, you don’t need to tell me this.”_

_“Then you know he would never allow this. Us. He’d come for you, dear, he’d kill you.”_

_“I’ve tempted death before.”_

_“Not like this.”_

_“Let him kill me, then. Let that son of a bitch blow my brains out.”_

_“John, God, don’t say these things.”_

_“The war will end and we will never see one another again. This is what you have chosen. This is what you want. Go to Eliza, love her, be with her.”_

_“John—”_

_“What are we arguing about? It’s done. You will have a life. A good one. With a wife and children—the life I threw away because I couldn’t stomach it. You win.”_

_“Please, I love you!”_

_“Don’t.”_

_“I know you’re angry, John, but I love you with so much.”_

_“Please, Alex.”_

_“Don’t leave it like this. Promise me. Don’t leave us like this.”_

_“I’m just—I’m—”_

_“Come here.”_

_“I’m so sorry, Alexander.”_

_“We only have a few hours until sunrise. Please, let’s have this moment.”_

_“I wish we could have more.”_

_“I know. We will, though.”_

_“I worry we won’t have enough.”_

_“I love you, John.”_

_“I hope so.”_

_\- - -_

Some call it a death wish.

Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens, the two boys who tempted death but escaped it every time, dancing on that line between life and death without a care in the world.

John once told Alexander that he would not die until he was ready to.

That day, John let death finally take him.

No one in the world knew the true nature of John and Alexander’s relationship. Everyone had their own ideas, based on letters and exchanged glances and a love so strong that could practically be seen. But only the grass beneath their feet on those battlefields, only the stars that decorated the sky above their tent, only the quiet wind that ruffled John’s hair as Alexander twisted his fingers in the front of John’s shirt—only they knew.

Only when night fell on those blood-spattered battlefields was their story told.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you much for getting through whatever the hell this was. Let me know what you thought!:)


End file.
